


Filia Pars Patris

by within_a_dream



Series: The Follies of Love [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Kid Fic, M/M, brief Cosette appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras offers to watch Sophie Pontmercy for a night (he <i>does</i> bear some of the credit for her conception, after all), and finds that caring for an infant can be more difficult than leading a revolution. Thankfully, help arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filia Pars Patris

When the Pontmercys asked Enjolras if he could mind Sophie for a night in the coming week, he knew exactly why they were asking. He didn’t tell them, of course—he could only imagine the magnitude of Marius’s blush if Enjolras so much as vaguely alluded to their lovers, and if they were happier thinking that the rest of their friends didn’t know everything they were doing, who was he to shatter the illusion?—but their talk of “dinner with a friend” was transparently an excuse to bring Courfeyrac home with them. Not that he minded; he’d offered to watch the child whenever they should need a break, and he was thrilled to have a chance to spend time with her.

Cosette brought Sophie to his apartment late Friday afternoon, whispering, “She hasn’t woken from her nap yet” as she handed her to Enjolras.

“I’ll be quiet,” he whispered back. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, I’m late for dinner as it is.” She shut the door silently as she left, leaving Enjolras alone with his daughter—his daughter, which had never stopped sounding remarkable to him. Sophie began to move her arms, smiling sleepily up at him.

“Hello, darling.”

She opened her eyes, staring deep blue into his, and began to scream.

It took a good quarter-hour of bouncing and off-tune singing to calm her down. Enjolras prayed she was too young to remember lyrics, or he’d have to explain to the Pontmercys how their daughter had learned bawdy tavern songs. She was too young to be talking, he assumed; at least, he hadn’t heard her say a word. He felt incredibly out of his depth, holding a tiny human being that he barely knew how to care for in his arms.

At least she’d stopped crying, in favor of letting out small fussy noises. He sat down on his bed, setting her on top of the quilt and holding out a finger to brush her hand.

“You miss your parents, don’t you? I miss them too, at the moment. I’m sure they’d know exactly what you were shouting about, but you’ll just have to put up with me instead.”

She gripped his finger and smiled, and he thought that maybe he could handle this after all.

Then came dinnertime. The Pontmercys had sent several jars of food along with Sophie, but she wanted none of it. She swatted away the first spoonful of food Enjolras directed towards her mouth, wrinkling her nose.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Enjolras scooped up another spoonful, bringing it towards himself. “Your mama made this just for you. It’s delicious.” He took a bite, and nearly spit it out—it was far from delicious. But Sophie was watching him with those wide blue eyes, and he knew she’d never eat the mash if he didn’t. He forced a smile, swallowed it down, and took another spoonful. “Soon it will all be gone! Won’t you be sad, if you don’t get so much as a bite?”

Sophie pouted (a small pout, given that she could barely control her facial muscles, but he could tell), and opened her mouth. She finished half the jar before she began to fuss again, after which Enjolras decided she’d been fed enough for a night. She wouldn’t starve before she was returned to her parents, surely.

Stories were meant to calm babies down. Enjolras rifled through his papers to find the essay he’d borrowed from Combeferre, and settled Sophie on his knee. “Your uncle Combeferre lent me an essay, and he’ll have my head if I don’t read it. Perhaps we could make our way through it together?"

He had several political essays he'd been meaning to read, but the Pontmercys might not take too kindly to Enjolras indoctrinating their daughter with revolutionary ideologies. Combeferre would be thrilled by his choice of bedtime story, at least--the article had been sitting on his bedside table for months.

Enjolras soon regretted his choice of reading material. At least the political tracts might have woken him up. The words swum in front of his eyes (how could it be necessary to describe the equipment in such detail?) and Sophie was just as awake and angry as she’d been at the beginning.

Just as it seemed Sophie might be dozing off, a knock at the door woke her up, and she began her screams anew. Enjolras resituated her in the crook of his arm and unlocked the door, seeing a familiar grizzled face in the hallway.

“Oh, hello.”

When Enjolras didn’t say anything else, Grantaire cleared his throat and said, “You asked me to come by,” raising his voice to be heard above the baby’s cries. “To be truthful, I wasn’t sure how you would fare left alone with an infant. Our fearless leader has many strengths, but as far as I’m aware, childcare isn’t one of them, and I thought I ought to make sure neither of you had killed the other yet.”

“I think she’s come close,” Enjolras said, too exhausted to question Grantaire’s motives. This couldn’t be a pleasure visit, there must be some hidden purpose, some hidden barb that Grantaire was preparing to plunge into his breast—but Enjolras had been holding a screaming child for at least an hour and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “She’s been crying all night, I don’t know what to do—oh, I’m sorry, you can come in if you’d like.”

“Could I see her?” Grantaire held her more gently than Enjolras would have suspected, and began singing to her, his voice hoarse but sweet. Slowly but surely, Sophie’s screams quieted, until she was sleeping in his arms. He smiled at her, rocking her gently, then turned back to Enjolras. “Would you like to hold her again?” he whispered.

Enjolras took her back, murmuring, “You’re an angel.” Grantaire’s expression seemed close to shock, although Enjolras couldn’t imagine what he’d said that had been so startling.

“I’ve seen my share of children.” He shook his head and smiled, adding, “It seems to me that you haven’t. How did Pontmercy talk you into watching his daughter?”

“They should be here to pick her up any minute now,” Enjolras said. “We can talk afterwards?”  
Soon enough, a soft knock at the door signaled the truth of his words.

“Was she terribly fussy?” Cosette asked, grimacing in sympathy at Enjolras’s tired eyes and mussed hair.

“No more than babies are.” Enjolras laid her in Cosette’s arms, smiling as she opened her eyes and began to coo at the sight of her mother. “I trust your night was enjoyable?”

She didn’t answer, but her grin (and the absence of Marius) told Enjolras more than he’d wanted to know. “You’re welcome to stop by for dinner this Sunday, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to.”

“Oh, and you had Grantaire to help you as well!” Cosette smiled, rocking Sophie in her arms. “It’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other, monsieur. I’m grateful for your help caring for my daughter.”

“I live to serve.” He winked broadly. “I’ve missed you, and your husband.”

“Marius meant to come with me today, but he was indisposed.” Only the slightest hint of color tinged Cosette’s cheeks, but both Enjolras and Grantaire knew why Marius had stayed home that morning. “I should go back to him, really. Thank you again for your help!”

“It’s no trouble,” Enjolras said. “Truly.”

As the door shut behind Cosette, Grantaire’s lips tightened, and he looked at Enjolras in an altogether too-probing manner. “So, she’s yours?”

Trust Grantaire to take the quickest path to his question, regardless of how sharply his words might cut. Although in all honesty, Enjolras found the frankness refreshing. “There’s no way to know, but the dates line up, and…well, you’ve seen her.”

Grantaire grinned. Enjolras braced himself for a vulgar comment, but instead, he only said, “She has your nose.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure why he was so delighted to hear that. It shouldn’t have left him smiling like a fool to hear Grantaire remark upon a resemblance between him and his daughter (his daughter—the words still felt strange).

“Well, congratulations on being a father, of a sort!”

His flush infuriated him, but mercifully, Grantaire chose not to comment on it. “I didn’t contribute much, and from what I understand, it could just have easily been you.”

“Oh no, I’m very careful about that sort of thing. Although from what I’ve seen of you, it’s clear that you wouldn’t think to take precautions…You really spent a night with the Pontmercys, hmm?”

“None of us were particularly satisfied with the experience.” Enjolras expected Grantaire to mock him, but instead his face turned pensive.

“I could see why you’d have problems with them. Were they your first time?” Grantaire frowned, and before Enjolras could answer, Grantaire cut him off. “I ask because Marius tends towards certain proclivities in bed, namely: he’ll let you do whatever you want with him, so long as you give him clear instructions and never make him think for himself. Placed together with a virginal youth such as yourself, the coupling could only lead to disaster.”

Grantaire looked at him questioningly, although Enjolras had no idea what he expected him to say. He decided against _Whatever you’re imagining, it was worse_ (too blunt), and _I’d imagined it would be better, somehow_ (too honest), and eventually decided upon nothing but an acquiescent smile.

Grantaire shrugged, and kept talking. “Madame Pontmercy is an entirely different tale. A perfectly-matched pair, those two—what the husband lacks in will, the wife makes up for in droves. I’m loathe to compromise a lady’s dignity, but the time I spent with her was lovely, and from what I’ve heard, she’s quite adventurous.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t share your experience.” Enjolras tried desperately not to dwell on the images that Grantaire’s words conjured up. He was addled enough without the thought of Grantaire in bed with the Pontmercys driving him to distraction. “Although I believe that to be less a fault of Cosette specifically than of her sex in general.”

“Ah.” The confession brought him to silence or the first time that night, and Enjolras found himself wishing he’d said nothing at all. Then Grantaire grinned. “And still you find yourself the unwed father of a child.”

“I appreciate the absurdity of the situation, trust me.” Despite Grantaire’s levity, Enjolras found himself once again growing serious. “I’d resigned myself to a life alone, and now I find myself with a beautiful daughter whose parents were kind enough to allow me to be a part of her life.” Enjolras blinked away the tears threatening to overwhelm him, and sighed. “I’m sorry for confiding all this in you. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this exhausted, and it seems to have made me maudlin.”

Grantaire laid a hand over his, then froze for a moment, relaxing only when Enjolras returned his grasp. “You needn’t be alone. If you’d like, I could show you to places where you might meet similarly-inclined men. Someone like you would have no shortage of suitors.”

Suitors. What a delicate way of phrasing it. The men Enjolras had met when he’d frequented toe places Grantaire spoke of hadn’t wanted to court him. They’d looked at him like a finely-carved slab of marble, taking things with their eyes that he didn’t want to give. Instead of explaining that to Grantaire, Enjolras leaned in to kiss him. Grantaire returned the kiss, but once Enjolras pulled away, shock spread across his face.

Enjolras winced, hoping he hadn’t made too much of a muddle of things. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“Enjolras, you could have pushed me to the floor and ravished me, and I still wouldn’t have objected. I’m only surprised you’d want to.”

Enjolras laughed at the color spreading across Grantaire’s face. “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to begin. And, well…I’m not sure I would want to. Ravish you, I mean. The kissing is wonderful, but I don’t—”

“I think this is the least articulate I’ve seen you, my friend.” He smiled, more comforting than Enjolras had thought it possible for him to be. “I couldn’t care less about that.” When Enjolras tried to speak, Grantaire cut him off with a wave of his hand. “In any case, this isn’t the time to discuss it. You should go to bed.”

Enjolras nodded, and moved towards his bedroom before turning back to Grantaire. “Would you like to join me?”

He worried that he’d given the wrong impression by inviting Grantaire to his bed, but after stripping down and borrowing one of Enjolras’s loosest nightshirts, Grantaire slipped beneath the quilt and slept.

It was pleasant, waking up with Grantaire’s arms curled around him. Instead of getting up and resuming his reading, as Enjolras usually did in the morning, he relaxed back onto the mattress and pulled Grantaire’s grip a little tighter around him. They lay like that until the sun had risen far past the bedroom window, when Grantaire began to stir.

“How long have you been awake?” he murmured.

“I didn’t mind waiting for you,” Enjolras replied. “This was wonderful.” The enormity of the situation hit him, then. He’d spent the night with Grantaire, and he’d spend more with him if given the opportunity, and as seemed to be happening all too often lately, he found himself at a loss for words. Certain things were expected of men who invited you to spend the night in their bed, after all, things that Enjolras wasn’t at all sure he could provide. “I’m just…not sure that this would be fair to you.”

Grantaire laughed, sleepy and a little breathless. “This is the earliest I’ve been up in years, and I’m afraid I’m not quite awake enough to follow you.”

“I know that you have certain carnal needs, needs that I can’t fulfill. I wouldn’t feel right trapping you with a man who couldn’t—”

“Enjolras! It’s a bit early to be planning our lives together, isn’t it?” Grantaire pressed a kiss to his forehead. “In any case, it doesn’t have to be only you and me, unless you’d like it to be. I know you can be oblivious to matters of the heart, but surely even you’ve noticed the Pontmercys’ relationship.”

“And you would consent to that?”

He laughed again, a sound that was beginning to make Enjolras’s heart flutter, as ridiculous as that sounded. “I’d hardly have slept with Marius and Cosette if I didn’t.”

“But you wouldn’t mind it with me? You wouldn’t expect…”

“I certainly wouldn’t object to either of us taking other partners, no. And I would never want to ask more from you than this.” Grantaire drew Enjolras into his arms. “I swear it.”

Enjolras leaned his head against Grantaire’s chest and smiled, and for a moment, let himself stop thinking. This was enough. He was enough, and he was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during/after [Love once Spurned](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3850852). The specific relationship dynamics will likely make more sense that way. Thanks to asterofdisaster and brigdh on Tumblr for talking me through the plot!
> 
> The paper Enjolras reads Sophie was initially meant to be a specific paper, but researching contemporary scientific essays proved more difficult than anticipated.
> 
> The title is, as far as I can tell, the Latin equivalent to the expression "Like father, like daughter" (continuing the trend of pretentious titles for this fluffy and ridiculous series!) Let me know if I've gotten the grammar wrong--I don't know any Latin.


End file.
